Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I swallow the lump in my throat and get ready to flee. But he speaks, casual, like he’s not unraveling me. “Where were you tonight? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “Annabel from the grocery store invited me to hang out at The Fox and Hare. Just a few locals, you know, drinks and stuff.” I’m rambling, giving too much away, but his intense eyes are on me, and I can’t stop.
His brow lifts, a flicker of something—amusement?—crossing his face.
“What?” I ask, defensively.
“The Fox and Hare,” he says, lips twitching. “I wouldn’t have thought that was your kind of place.”
I laugh and the tension eases for a second. “I’m used to dives like that. But of course, you go to fancier places, don’t you?”
Before he can answer, a woman sweeps up. I tense. It’s Cecilia, the horse-faced gossip who showed up at my cottage days ago, sniffing around like she was looking for news to literally report back to the village. She is smiling brightly and appears filled with preppy energy.
“Lauren!” she chirps, like we’re lifelong friends. Her eyes rake over my outfit, lingering. “I didn’t realize you had been invited.”
“No,” I say, clipped, not liking her tone. “Just stopped by.”
“Oh, okay,” Not missing a beat, she turns to Hugh, her grin syrupy. “Thanks for inviting us to the party.”
Hugh’s expression is as direct as a blade. “I didn’t. This isn’t my event. It’s Victor’s. So I’m not sure why you’re here.”
My eyes widen, and a laugh threatens to spill out. I glance down, hiding my amusement. Hugh’s not cruel, just blunt, and I’m starting to get it. Maybe I misjudged him, took his edge for malice. Cecilia’s smile falters, but she recovers, laughing it off, and I see why I don’t trust her. She’s all pretense; she masks her sting.
“Oh, I know the caterers,” she says, breezily. “The venue was given to them at the last minute so they pulled in the town’s baking committee. That’s how I got here.”
“Good,” Hugh says, flat. “Enjoy yourself.”
She nods, undeterred. “It’s stunning. I always wanted to see the inside of the manor. It’s gorgeous, especially since your dad passed. You’ve kept it perfect.”
He doesn’t bite; his face is a stony mask of polite indifference. She pivots to me, her eyes glinting. “Didn’t know you two were so friendly. I thought you’d met, but were not this close.”
I bristle, sensing a trap. “Again, I just stopped by,” I repeat firmly.
“Oh, sure,” she says, then leans in, voice sly. “So, are you selling to him? Your land, I mean.”
The question is like a slap, here of all places. I turn to Hugh, stunned, as Cecilia rolls on, looking at him innocently. “You always get what you want, and I have no doubt Lauren’s land will be yours soon. And I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. Your family’s always so generous. She’s got nothing to worry about.”
My jaw tightens, anger flaring. We were getting along fine until she arrived, but now the air is poisoned. “Thank you for the party,” she says to Hugh, all sweetness, then glides off, leaving a wake of awkward silence.
I meet Hugh’s eyes. “She’s… nosy,” I say, forcing a smile.
“For the record, I’m not pushing you to sell.”
“I know,” I say, and I mean it. “I’ve said no, and I’m sticking to it.”
He tilts his head, unfazed. “Want more to eat?”
I shake my head. “Could you please check on the plumber?”
He pulls out his phone, scrolling, and nods. “He’s here—three minutes out.”
Relief floods me. “Good. I’m going to head back to meet him.”
“Stay,” he cajoles, voice low, tempting. “Have fun. I’ll handle the plumber.”
I hesitate, wanting to, but my cottage—my mess—calls louder. “No, I need to be there. I’m renovating alone, and it’s… pure chaos. Paint cans, tools, my grandma’s old stuff everywhere. I have to see what went wrong.”
He nods, understanding, but adds, “Fine. I’ll have staff send food over. It’ll be temporary whatever he does. So you shouldn’t cook tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” I say, and the words feel small for how much I mean them. He’s been… kind, and it’s disarming. Then his hand grazes my arm lightly and sparks flare. It’s as if my skin becomes alive under his touch. Our eyes lock, and his gaze is deep, pulling me in. Just like that, I’m back in that kiss, drowning. His hand lingers, my breath catches—
“Hugh!” someone calls across the room.
And it shatters the spell. I blink and step back. Embarrassment burns my cheeks, but I don’t look at him. “I should go,” I say, voice shaky, and turn away. I can feel his eyes boring into my back, penetrating and inescapable. The ballroom’s cool air does nothing for the heat in my body, and I hurry out, desperate for distance.